This article was downloaded by: [Uppsala universitetsbibliotek]On: 18 November 2014, At: 13:35Publisher: RoutledgeInforma Ltd Registered in England and Wales Registered Number: 1072954 Registeredoffice: Mortimer House, 37-41 Mortimer Street, London W1T 3JH, UK

Click for updates

Business HistoryPublication details, including instructions for authors andsubscription information:http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/fbsh20

A history for consumption ethicsTerry Newholma, Sandra Newholmb & Deirdre Shawc

a Manchester Business School, Marketing, Manchester, UKb Macclesfield, UKc Adam Smith Business School, University of Glasgow, Glasgow, UKPublished online: 10 Sep 2014.

To cite this article: Terry Newholm, Sandra Newholm & Deirdre Shaw (2014): A history forconsumption ethics, Business History, DOI: 10.1080/00076791.2014.935343

To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/00076791.2014.935343

PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR ARTICLE

Taylor & Francis makes every effort to ensure the accuracy of all the information (the“Content”) contained in the publications on our platform. However, Taylor & Francis,our agents, and our licensors make no representations or warranties whatsoever as tothe accuracy, completeness, or suitability for any purpose of the Content. Any opinionsand views expressed in this publication are the opinions and views of the authors,and are not the views of or endorsed by Taylor & Francis. The accuracy of the Contentshould not be relied upon and should be independently verified with primary sourcesof information. Taylor and Francis shall not be liable for any losses, actions, claims,proceedings, demands, costs, expenses, damages, and other liabilities whatsoeveror howsoever caused arising directly or indirectly in connection with, in relation to orarising out of the use of the Content.

This article may be used for research, teaching, and private study purposes. Anysubstantial or systematic reproduction, redistribution, reselling, loan, sub-licensing,systematic supply, or distribution in any form to anyone is expressly forbidden. Terms &

Conditions of access and use can be found at http://www.tandfonline.com/page/terms-and-conditions

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

A history for consumption ethics

Terry Newholma*, Sandra Newholmb and Deirdre Shawc

aManchester Business School, Marketing, Manchester, UK; bMacclesfield, UK; cAdam SmithBusiness School, University of Glasgow, Glasgow, UK

The histories we give to production and consumption affect our present and futurebusiness understandings. We question recent works that have ascribed a relatively shorthistory to consumption ethics. Drawing on writers, across a number of academicdisciplines, we conclude evidence exists to make the case against understandingconsumption ethics as new to the twenty-first century. We argue that acknowledging along history for consumption ethics challenges contemporary economic stereotypes ofconsumers as self-interested maximisers. It also modifies our understanding of therelationship between corporate and consumer social responsibility.

Keywords: ethics; consumption; history; corporate social responsibility (CSR);consumer social responsibility (CNSR)

Introduction

The histories we give to business construct its elements as novel or traditional, normal or

problematical1, conservative or radical2 and so on. Recently charted histories of political

consumption3 have, for example, challenged any notion of passive consumers simply

amenable to strategic business management. In this article we argue a similar history for

consumption ethics. We distinguish between political consumption and our topic, ethical

consumption. Our aim is to give sufficient evidence to support such a history and through

this to demonstrate that acknowledging a longer history than is usually credited to

consumption ethics can challenge orthodox understandings of ‘the consumer’ and open

alternative insights into the market and business in the present.

That we have not found such a history collated in the literature might be surprising. We

should, for example, anticipate a consumption ethic from Adam Smith’s4 work in the

eighteenth century, when he wrote:

How selfish so ever man [sic ] may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in hisnature, which interests him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary tohim, though he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of seeing it.

However, as Chris Nyland and Amanda McLeod5 tell us of an American case, the

consumer democracy element of Taylorist ‘scientific management’, which included the

right ‘to buy goods and services that are produced “ethically” (that is produced by un-

sweated labour)’6, was effectively expunged from history. They argue that following the

‘assault’ by the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1930s ‘the radical turn

q 2014 Taylor & Francis

*Corresponding author. Email: terry.newholm@mbs.ac.uk

Business History, 2014

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/00076791.2014.935343

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

taken by the consumer movement through the Depression years soon disappeared from the

consumer literature’ and history texts.

In this article we are seeking to explore a range of historically documented consumer

behaviours as apparent examples of ethical consumption. We intend our argument to be

critical in two senses: (1) that we respond to those who have rightly urged caution against

too readily finding ‘ethical consumption’ in historical events; and (2) that we place

historically voiced concerns within the recent philosophical writings on consumption

ethics. In doing this we intend to provide sufficient detail for a probabilistic judgement to

be made; that those whose consumption we review demonstrate a high degree of concern

for the well-being of (distant) others.

From a business perspective our argument continues the work of Matthew Hilton and

Lawrence Gilckman in developing a concept of the active consumer that runs counter to

the conventional marketing view of managed consumers. We believe that understanding

business as operating within a more volatile environment than predicted by the simply

self-interested consumer has the potential to generate useful insights into the relationship

between the wax and wane of corporate social responsibility (CSR) and what Timothy

Devinney, Pat Auger and Giana Eckhardt7 refer to as consumer social responsibility

(CNSR).

Short and long histories

We broadly introduce our subject by looking at key statements which, not

uncharacteristically in the field, establish consumption ethics as a recent phenomenon.

Christian Coff8 introduces his book on food ethics saying ‘Over the last decade or so large

numbers of consumers have acquired a taste for ethics.’ Similarly, Bodo Schlegelmilch9

asserts that ‘Consumers have changed and are now much more interested in green, ethical

and charitable issues’. Such statements of change implies that consumers have recently

brought their compassion to bear upon consumption or, more fundamentally, that

compassion among consumers has for whatever reason increased and/or broadened to a

social consciousness.

Whilst sceptical about ‘ethical consumption’ as an empirically discernible practice,

Devinney et al.10 similarly note recent beginnings to its conceptualisation:

The notion of ethical consumers has evolved over the last twenty-five or more years from analmost exclusive focus on environmental issues to a concept that incorporates matters ofconscience more broadly, only to return to its ‘green’ roots with the recent concerns aboutglobal climate change. During this same period we have witnessed a growing debate about theimportance of ethical consumerism and, in particular, the impact that large-scale strategieshave on consumer awareness and spending.

Devinney et al. are concerned with the recent ‘notion’ of ethical consumers. More

importantly, however, they chart a short history with specific concerns originating in the

environmental movement, broadening to incorporate ‘matters of conscience’ but returning

its focus to the environment. We might infer from this that ‘matters of conscience’ are new

to consumer decision-making. This understanding is reinforced by Devinney et al.11 with

the idea that the ‘social component’ of a product offering is ‘non-traditional’. In different

ways, these assertions effectively deny a history to consumers’ ethical concerns12.

The historian Hilton13 also gives some support to this argument that ethical

consumerism is new:

Ethical consumerism is recognisable as a social movement of the last three decades, as firstly‘green’ or environmental issues and then human and animal rights issues have been brought to

2 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

bear upon aspects of personal consumption. Yet unloading a wider political baggage on togoods can hardly be described as a recent phenomenon and surely stretches as far back as onewishes to take a history of material culture.

Thus, Hilton14 makes an important conjecture here that political, and we might add

moral, complexity is inherent in material culture. In the same way, Tim Lang and Yannis

Gabriel15 insist that ‘Debating the direction of consumer activism is not new nor is the

attempt to organise disparate individual acts of consumption by appealing to higher moral

political ends.’ Similarly, but from an anthropological perspective, Amanda Berlan16

draws our attention to anti-slavery boycotts, the nineteenth century blue ribbon campaign

signalling unionised labour in the cigar supply chain and early twentieth century buyers’

associations that sought to reconnect acts of production with acts of consumption. She

notes evidence of ethical consumption practices among the Busana of New Guinea paying

a voluntary premium to a less fortunate neighbouring tribe for their produce. She

concludes, ‘These examples indicate that attributing moral significance to a product and to

the economic exchange of which it is part is not exclusive to the socially minded

consumers in the modern age.’17 We will further examine the New Guinea example later

in this article.

On the one hand, we find accounts that see ‘ethical consumption’ as new, as a market

changing phenomenon, or others seeing it as merely a myth underpinning the recent debate

on CSR. On the other hand ‘ethical consumption’ is subsumed into the politics inherent in

material culture and argued to have a similarly long history. We will, therefore, consider

some apparent examples of ethical consumption in some detail. We begin with instances

where, prima facie, consumers ‘ . . . are concerned with the effects that a purchasing

choice has, not only on themselves, but also on the external world around them’18

including ‘distant and absent others’19.

As Immanuel Kant argued ‘ . . . we can never, even by the strictest examination,

completely plumb the depths of the secret incentives of our actions . . . ’,20 still less those

involved in historical events. Our concern here will be to show whether in all probability

some of those taking part in these instances demonstrate a high degree of concern for

others’ well-being. To do this we examine such statements from the time as are available

and any similarities that are evident between historical and contemporary instances.

Thus, to demonstrate a history for a consumption ethic, our interest must be rather

narrower than the field on which political consumption can draw. Many consumer

campaigns through history and in many countries might be argued to have morally

defensible aims. Such actions might range from Mahatma Gandhi’s boycott of UK cotton

products in India21 to the Florida Gay Rights Buycotts in America,22 labour rights

campaigns23 and eighteenth century flour and bread societies.24 What these campaigns

have in common is that they are organised in part by their potential beneficiaries. Gandhi

and the majority of the participants in his boycott wanted self-determination for their

country; Todd Simmons along with his boycotting homosexual compatriots wanted equal

rights; labour rights campaigners in the early twentieth century wanted justice in their

labour market and; mill consumer-owners wanted traditional fairness in the consumer

markets. It is likely that in all these cases support was also received from sympathetic

people not directly benefitting from the potential gains. Nevertheless, we would argue that

demonstrating a history for consumer ethics is better served through presenting primary

concern for others among non-beneficiaries. To achieve this, published academic

commentary is utilised, but where clarification of consumption practices and motivations

are concerned we have returned to primary sources. In doing so we also highlight the

Business History 3

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

potential danger of reading motive from behaviour and vice versa25 and, thus, deducing

‘ethical consumption’ and a labelling of ethical self.

As the current literature on ethical consumption regards practices as both individual

and collective, we examine individual consumer actions which, in addition, sometimes

occur within semi-organised and organised campaigns. We do this primarily in the

eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Although we might have included far earlier

examples, for instance the Pythagorean diet,26 challenges of interpreting early works and

disagreements among scholars make these examples less clear.

In the following section we examine the 1791 boycott of slave-produced sugar. The

boycott has been cited as a potential example of collective ‘ethical consumption’.27 In the

second section we take one instance where sufficient detail of individual consumption is

available to examine a potentially strong ethic in purchase and abstention motives. In the

third section we are concerned to demonstrate the wide prevalence of consumption ethics,

extending beyond the examples given, to show variation in approaches to behaviour. We

further seek to demonstrate instances of ethical consumption across class and gender,

through geographical and temporal locations and across product groups. In the final

section we seek to justify the importance of acknowledging a long history to consumption

ethics. We view this as pertinent given the increased interest recently given to this area in

business, but also across other disciplines including geography, anthropology and

psychology.

The 1791 boycott of slave-produced sugar

The late eighteenth and early nineteenth century consumer boycott in the UK primarily

against slave produced sugar28 has been seen as, in part, inspired by the American Quaker,

John Woolman.29 In turn this has been linked to the early nineteenth century buycott30 of

‘free produce’ in the US.31 Of this anti-slavery movement in the UK, Adam Hochschild32

tells us this was no minor event:

In 1791, thousands of pamphlets were printed in the UK which encouraged people to boycottsugar produced by slaves. Estimates suggest some 400,000 people abandoned sugar, withsales dropping by a third to a half. Some shops advertised goods which had been produced by“freemen” and sales of sugar from India, where slavery was not used, increased tenfold overtwo years.

We should not simply assume, however, that an event such as the anti-slavery boycott

is automatically evidence of ‘ethical consumption’. As James Carrier33 points out:

The danger of assuming that what appears to be ethical consumption really is an instance of itis illustrated. . . . By those English people who refused to buy slave-grown sugar early in thenineteenth century. They may look like present-day ethical consumers: their buying decisionsreflect evaluation of the context of the sugar. However, without further investigation it is notclear where those people thought the wrong in slavery lay and what assumptions were at work.Were they objecting to slavery because it denied a humanity of both slave and master, becauseit denied religious salvation to slaves, because it denied to slaves the chance to be independenttransactors selling their labour freely on the market?

Frank Trentmann34 similarly presents an argument against the temptation to draw a

simple connection between the boycott and modern ‘ethical consumption’. He argues that

the liberal inheritance of anti-slavery meant that ‘In the interwar years, caring at a distance

meant privileged British housewives buying Canadian apples and Kenyan coffee to

support their white cousins in the empire.’ Perhaps more strikingly, Michele Micheletti35

notes that ‘self interested industrial workers as well as small Northern farmers in the

United States feared and then opposed slavery’s system of cheap labor because they could

4 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

not compete with it without severe economic sacrifice’. And as Clare Midgley36 points

out, some supported restrictions on slavery out of fear of the slave ‘insurrections’. To

argue that there is diversity of motivation in crowds is to draw on George Rude’s37 critique

of assuming homogeneity of purpose. Since prominent boycotts of the products of

apartheid in the late twentieth century and Nestle from the 1970s must similarly be

considered to comprise a heterogeneous ‘crowd’, some unworthy motives, as suggested by

Carrier, Trentman, Micheletti and Midgley, in a broadly ethical campaign are to be

expected. Indeed, Micheletti finds similarities between the historical anti-slavery and

current anti-sweatshop campaigns precisely through the diversity of actors in capitalist

societies. Our concern with the slave labour boycotts, as illustrations of ‘ethical

consumption’, therefore, requires further examination to determine, not a purely unselfish

movement, but the strong presence of individual and collective concern for the other.

In reviewing the reasons for anti-slavery consumption, therefore, we bear in mind

David Schwartz’s38 discussion concerning the immorality of slavery in relation to

consumers. From a consequentialist perspective the concern is that any good accruing

from slave production (for example the pleasure of cheap goods) is far outweighed by the

bad (the misery of slavery). Perhaps more importantly for our purposes, the deontological

argument to which Schwartz refers is Kant’s categorical imperative. Schwartz paraphrases

this as ‘persons have a dignity beyond all price and may never be treated as meremeans to

satisfying one’s own desires’.39 Our purpose in referring to these philosophical arguments

is to frame our considerations of statements contemporary to the anti-slavery movement.

To put this more simply, if we are to consider some of those taking part in the anti-slavery

movement as ‘ethical consumers’, we should be able to demonstrate that their

consumption was affected by their concerns about methods of production and that those

concerns were framed, at least to a significant degree, in ways that contemporary

philosophers of consumption ethics40 would approve. Therefore to understand the nature

of the boycotters we review two ‘communities’ promoting the boycott: the women’s

movement and the ‘Shropshire Enlightenment’.

The women’s movement is particularly interesting during the anti-slavery campaigns

because the consumer boycott, Midgley argues, represented the more radical part of the

campaign. Against the gradualism of the (male-led) political petitioners, she says, the

(female) boycotters demanded immediate emancipation. There was, therefore, a

recognisably strong consequentialist line in the boycott.

The sugar boycott was largely organised by women. To give something of the scale of

this effort we are told that ‘[s]ystematic house-to-house canvasses were conducted, with

women visiting every house in Birmingham over a period of several years’.41 Women’s

involvement in the anti-slavery movement in the UK, Midgley42 says, drew on their

‘empathy’ as women for the female slaves but also their particular position, at the time, as

domestic consumers of the products of slavery; primarily sugar. Whilst we might admit

some self-interest in opposing the oppressed position of women in general, further

evidence suggests a wider compassionate concern. We can understand something of the

principled concerns in the movement by reference to a poem by one of the prominent

advocates:43

For know, its tall gold stems contain

A sweet rich juice, which white men prize;

And that they may this sugar gain,

The Negro toils, and bleeds and dies.

Business History 5

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

In this stanza we see concern for others ‘treated as meremeans to satisfying one’s own

desires’: the prize of a sweet rich juice. This deontological argument against slavery is

precisely that which Schwartz now finds most convincing.

Similarly to twenty-first century incidents Midgley tells us, ‘The campaign against the

slave trade saw the marketing to women of new forms of ethical consumer produce,

cultivating a fashion for the consumption of items of personal adornment, tableware, and

imaginative literature with an anti-slavery message along abstention from slave-grown

sugar.’44 These were, she adds, ‘anti-slavery goods aimed at the female abolitionist

consumer concerned to create a home-based anti-slavery culture’.45 And whilst

aristocratic ladies kept black children as a fashion item and as an outward show of

status, ‘anti-slavery women purchased brooches, hairpins, bracelets and pin boxes

produced by Josiah Wedgwood which bore a cameo image of a kneeling and enchained

male slave, making a fashion out of abolitionism and signalling their sympathetic

identification with the slave’46. The purchase of such items, as against other forms of

adornment, strongly suggests a consumer commitment to being seen as ethical. As Thomas

Clarkson, a leading abolitionist wrote in 1806 ‘ . . . thus fashion which usually confined

itself to worthless things, was seen for one in honourable office of promoting the cause of

justice, humility and freedom’.47 The female body as Charlotte Sussman has put it became

‘an exemplary model of compassion imagined as an ethics of consumption’.48 The

Wedgewood male cameo, the sometimes exceptional campaign involvement49 and the

principled sentiments expressed strongly support the conclusion that within the boycott

movement were women who we would recognise today as activists within an ‘ethical

consumption’ campaign.

We now turn to what has been referred to as the Shropshire enlightenment;50 a group of

families, chronicled in Katharine Plymley’s diaries, who in the late eighteenth century

became prominent in the anti-slavery movement. We refer to ‘families’ for two reasons.

Firstly, both Johanna Dahn51 and Hochschild52 tell us of children, including those of

Katharine’s brother, Joseph, taking some active part in the boycott. Secondly, at a time

when women were not always taken seriously in political matters, Katharine, her brother

Joseph and their friend Clarkson often discussed slavery together.

Within the ‘enlightenment’ both retailers and consumers sought alternative products to

slave-grown sugar. Dahn53 notes that during this UK sugar boycott shopkeepers in

Shrewsbury and Haverhill, Eddowes and Wright, refused to stock slave sugar. Eddowes

distributed leaflets, and Wright placed an advert in the newspaper stating his reasons for

declining to sell slave sugar. He says, ‘he cannot with a safe conscience trade in that article

till he can procure it through a purer channel’.54 Both retailers themselves eschewed slave

sugar. Also as a consumer, we learn that ‘Jopseph Plymley “order’d various sorts as

samples, the Loaf Sugars are very good & some of the browns the cleanest & finest I ever

saw, the maple sugar has a peculiar taste not quite unlike very sweet damson”.’55 Similarly

to Sussman,56 Dahn concludes in her paper, ‘The abolitionists could be regarded as the

equivalent of today’s “ethical” consumers. Rather than endure complete abstention

influential families at the centre of the movement were turning to other sources.’57 Sales of

maple syrup and sugar ‘produced by the labour of Freemen’58 rose substantially at this

time. As was the case with Fair-Trade products in the 1990s, questions of the taste of these

alternative products were important for some consumers.59 Unlike recent fair trading, in

this instance retailers are shopkeepers and there is a relatively close relationship between

themselves and their customers.60

We can gain a sense of the motives of the Plymleys through their close association

with, and support for, Clarkson. Hochschild61 argues that Clarkson’s influential Abstract

6 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

of the evidence delivered before a select committee of the House of Commons in the year

1790 and 1791, on the part of the petitioners for the abolition of the Slave Trade, sounds so

contemporary by what it does not contain; there is no reference to the bible but only of

evidence speaking for itself. What Hochschild is saying here is of interest with regard to

worry about abolitionists’ motivation voiced above by Carrier. Clarkson’s was a rational,

humanistic appeal for people to take an ethical stand against slavery, thus, free from any

necessary concern that ‘slavery . . . denied religious salvation to slaves’.62

What is remarkable about this network of friendships in Shropshire is that it included

the citizen petitioners, most notably Clarkson, and consumer boycotters, who otherwise

were not always harmonious political counterparts. Families as consumers and retailers as

both consumers and suppliers campaigned and sought alternative products. There is good

evidence of an impassioned but humanist concern against the wrongness of slavery.

John Woolman’s consumer experiences

In this section we take the Quaker John Woolman as an instance where we have found

sufficient detail of individual consumption to be able to critically examine a singular

strong ethic in motive.63 Over the period of his journal (1720–1770) Woolman64

expresses his increasing concern on behalf of the ‘Negro’ slaves exploited, even among his

Quaker Friends, in his American homeland and, following his move to England, the (mis)

treatment he found there of working people and animals. What is as important for our

purposes is that he documents a number of purchases and abstentions. To varying degrees

Woolman tells us that he gives due consideration to his growing concerns and gives

thought to his possibly complex motives for the stance he takes. The description and

reflection on his purchases makes Woolman’s an unusually valuable case to examine. We

start, however, by contextualising Woolman’s concerns and briefly outlining aspects of his

consumption and abstention practices.

In 1770 we find Woolman65 recording:

The oppression of the slaves which I have seen in several journeys southward on thiscontinent, and the report of their treatment in the West Indies, have deeply affected me, and acare to live in the spirit of peace and minister no just cause of offence to my fellow-creatureshaving from time to time livingly revived to my mind, I have for some years past declined togratify my palate with those sugars.

Woolman’s wish not to offend his ‘fellow creatures’ appears as a principled reasoning

not far removed from Schwartz’s deontological argument. His abstention occurs some

decades before the UK slave sugar boycott cited as a possible example of early ‘ethical

consumption’.66 In contrast to the UK boycott, in this period Woolman records that ‘[t]he

number of those who decline the use of West India produce, on account of the hard usage

of the slaves who raise it, appears small . . . ’.67

Beyond slavery, Woolman’s ethical concerns directed his travel arrangements. On his

sea voyage to England in 1772, Woolman decides to travel in the discomfort of steerage,

reasoning that the cabins are unnecessarily elaborate. We may discount this incident as

Quakerly concern with the ‘plain’ rather than concern for the other. Conversely, on arrival

in England, the ill-treatment of coach horses he encountered led Woolman, an experienced

horseman, to travel considerable distances in England on foot. This principled choice of

travel on account of cruelty to other creatures is certainly striking but is not, as we shall see

later, an isolated case.

As confirmation of the enduring nature of Woolman’s68 principles, the first editor of

his journal tells us that during an illness:

Business History 7

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

. . . an apothecary, coming of his own accord the next day and desiring to do something forhim, he said he found a freedom to confer with him . . . and if anything should be proposed asto medicine that did not come through defiled channels or oppressive hands, he should bewilling to consider and take it, so far as he found freedom.

Woolman made this judgement as to the consumption of medicines during his terminal

illness. We can infer, therefore, the seriousness with which he treated his, perhaps

transcendental, responsibilities as a compassionate consumer.

It is through the detailing of his new hat, however, that we gain most insight into

Woolman’s consumption principles. As a tailor by trade, and through his frequent travels,

Woolman has knowledge of dyes. ‘In these journeys I have been where much cloth hath

been dyed, and have, at sundry times, walked over ground where much of their dye-stuffs

has drained away.’69 Resolved by 1761 to buy un-dyed clothes, Woolman70 enters in his

journal ‘ . . . my mind was thus settled in relation to hurtful dyes . . . ’. He continues for

‘about nine months’ before beginning this replacement71 and in 1762, Woolman buys a

new hat. However, he72 remains uneasy with the purchase:

In attending meetings this singularity was a trial to me, and more especially at this time, aswhite hats were used by some who were fond of following the changeable modes of dress, andas some Friends73 who knew not fromwhat motives I wore it grew shy of me, I felt my way fora time shut up in the exercise of the ministry.

Given the date of the purchase and the Quaker context we might be surprised to see

Woolman speaking of those ‘fond of following the changeable modes of dress’. As Peter

Collins74 says, however, many Quakers became wealthy and experienced tensions

between their commitment to the ‘plain’ and the material possibilities their wealth offered

them. It seems the wearing of white hats may be seen as a fashion. Woolman, by contrast,

buys an un-dyed hat. This places him in a difficult position following his concern that dyes

harm those slaves involved in the process. His conflicting concerns find echoes in both the

recent work of Peter Wenz75 in his recommendation to live more simply than our society

but not so much that we alienate ourselves and Cindy Isenhour’s76 discussion of living

‘beyond the mainstream’.

Following Carrier,77 we need to examine, as far as this is possible, Woolman’s

motivations towards the consumption practices described above. Compassion for the other

is, we would argue, a central reoccurring theme in Woolman’s journal. Woolman often

reports his deep distress at the sights of cruelty he has witnessed. With regard to slavery,

Woolman78 asserts the principle ‘I believe that liberty was the natural right of all men

equally.’ Yet his79 concern for the other also extends to those who live on the labour of

slaves.

I took occasion to remark on the difference betwixt a people used to labor moderately for theirliving, training up their children in frugality and business, and those who live on the labour ofslaves; the former, in my view, being the most happy life.

Woolman consistently saw wealth, facilitated by the exploitation of others, as an

undesirable burden and frugality, in the positive sense used by Wenz,80 with moderate

work as the more pleasing condition. What we might presume is Carrier’s81 preferred

motive for opposing slavery, that it ‘denied a humanity of both slave and master’, is,

therefore, echoed in Woolman’s compassion.

Nevertheless, Woolman is conscious of the complexity of human motivations. Deep

introspection is apparent in his journal when he, for example, considers he might possibly

have self-interested motives for his anti-slavery mission. It might, he reasons, be because

he wants to present himself as a great preacher. Unlike many ‘great’ preachers, however,

8 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

Woolman assiduously avoids wealth82 and endures considerable discomfort in the pursuit

of his principles. We believe that Carrier83 would not be averse to Woolman being seen as

a principled ‘consumer’ and that Schwartz and Wenz would approve his practices even if

Woolman’s Christian beliefs and Schwartz’s and Wenz’s secular philosophic logic differ

considerably.

A wide foundation for consumption ethics

In this section we aim to demonstrate the wide occurrence of ethical concerns in

consumption. More briefly than in the previous section, we demonstrate instances across

class and gender, through geographical and time locations, and across product groups. We

give less detail concerning motivation than in the previous section. Our interest is in

diversity of illustrative practices but explicitly not the frequency of ethical concerns in

consumption.

To access consumption practices we began with familiar historical social and political

campaigns since these were the activities that history had recorded. Within these

movements we sought representations of member’s activities and lifestyles. A number of

key texts were invaluable.84 Beyond this, we sought statements on individual consumption

ethics in activist’s diaries, autobiographies, letters and campaign materials. We paid

attention to whether an activist’s ethical ethos led their consumption practices or was

adopted for fashionable or self-interested reasons.

We start this exploration with the suffrage movements of nineteenth century Britain,

through an article by Leah Leneman,85 looking at how widespread vegetarianism was

amongst its members. This was the time of the Food Reform Movement which advocated

vegetarianism and had been gaining ground for a decade or so across Europe.86 Food

reform then would be an important element when looking for the reasons for abstention

from meat eating. The Food Reform Movement was mainly based on human purity of

mind and body. The suffrage movement was also interested in food reform because they

saw it as less time consuming, as freeing women from the kitchen so that they could be

more active in suffrage and politics in general.87

Leneman suggests there is evidence that abstention from eating meat was common

place amongst the various suffrage groups. A great many of these individuals, it seems,

were already following a vegetable diet prior to joining the suffrage cause. It is difficult to

tell from her article whether or not this new diet was embraced for health and spiritual

purity or for compassion for other creatures; a concern for the other. For many suffragettes,

however, Leneman says a parallel was drawn between animal rights and feminism;

a kinship felt within feminism for other disenfranchised beings. In 1909, for example,

Constance Lytton, a prominent suffragette, published an account of her time in Holloway

Prison: ‘Prisons and Prisoners’. In her written record there is a personal refection on a time

prior to her taking up a vegetable diet. She writes: ‘all these years I had caused untold

suffering that I might be fed’, and that ‘the unnatural death of an animal should not be

necessary to make up my bill of fare’.88 Another suffragette, Leonora Cohen was brought

up on a vegetable diet for health reasons, her mother probably being influenced by the

Food ReformMovement. In later life, Cohen spoke at a public meeting in Manchester. The

Vegetarian Messenger and Health Review (VM&HR) report her asserting, to loud

applause, that ‘even if it were not the best [diet] she would still adhere to it from

humanitarian motives’.89 These and similar stories strongly suggest that a distinction was

made between self-interested health concerns and other-interested ‘ethical

vegetarianism’.90

Business History 9

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

Such ethical concerns took some suffragettes beyond the consumption of vegetarian

foods. Leneman draws our attention to the radical journal Shafts in which she points out

there were often features on animal welfare and the wearing of fur. This concern is

corroborated in Maude Arncliffe-Sennett’s scrapbook, where she pasted in adverts of

models in fur coats. Leneman tells us that a scribbled note beside the adverts reads, ‘These

women all seem to me hateful – they represent so much killing’.91 Whilst Lytton, Cohen

and Arncliffe-Sennett were likely to be of an affluent class, in the Women’s Social and

Political Union (WSPU) journal (1913) we find Ada Nield Chew ‘a very active working-

class [ . . . ] organiser’ arguing in favour of a fashion column giving practical ethical

guidance on choosing campaigning wear and ‘how to look and feel warm in winter without

swathing oneself in dead animal skins’.92 Such concerns with clothing were not just the

preserve of the suffragettes, since as early as 1851 an article appeared in the Vegetarian

Society magazine about alternatives to the wearing of leather.

As we have already seen in the case of Woolman in the eighteenth century, headwear

was also an item of ethical concern. Similarly in 1909 in the February issue of the WSPU

suffrage journal some activists sought to dissociate themselves from the fashion of

wearing whole birds in their hats. Others wrote to give support to stopping this ‘inhumane

and revolting fashion of using beautiful birds for the purpose of personal adornment’.93

Whilst Woolman’s ethic was drawn from his disgust for how slaves were treated in the

dying of hats, the authors of the WSPU article expressed compassion for the birds.

Although, it is probably true to say that a person’s sensibilities to other areas of ethical

consumption can be brought about by an initial single ethical concern, it would be quite

wrong to believe that because a person is a vegetarian or against vivisection, that there

would be consistency of consumption practice. George Bernard Shaw94 highlights this

point when attending an ant-vivisection rally in London. He noted that ‘the ladies among

us wore hats, cloaks and headdresses obtained by wholesale massacres . . . callous

extermination of our fellow creatures’.95 A similar critical comment comes from Henry

Salt96 in 1895 that, at a Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA)

prize giving, their patron the Duchess of York wore an Egret in her hat.97 We, therefore,

need to be cautious in drawing too many conclusions without historical records concerning

an individual’s ethical consumer behaviour. In the case of ‘murderous millinery’,98

however, the combined efforts of individuals boycotting offending clothing, handing out

leaflets and parading with sandwich boards at the sales in London precipitated the passing

of The Plumage Act.99 Similarly in the US in 1885 George Sennett of the American

Ornithologists called for an end to the slaughter of birds for adornment, which eventually

resulted in the setting up of bird reserves from Maine to Texas in 1903.100 In this sense

consumer movements combine principles with interest in consequences.

The concern for other animals led prominent and little known individuals to similar

consumption. A medical army officer in service during the First World War wrote of his

difficulties in remaining true to his vegetarian principles. He reports these difficulties in

the Vegetarian News magazine, listing the vegetables, cereals and fruits he ate during that

time. He ends with the statement, rather proudly, that he had ‘calculated that during my

period of army service I failed to consume at least half-a-ton of meat that was due to me in

rations, and at least a hundred-and-fifty pounds of bacon missed turning my stomach into a

pig cemetery’.101 The officer’s statement echoes the poem, ‘Living Graves’, attributed to

G. B. Shaw. Whilst this poem implies moral superiority, typical of Shaw’s rhetoric, it also

speaks of ‘animal’ rights’ and unnecessary ‘suffering and pain’. We might, therefore,

presume this officer’s compassion, in challenging circumstances, through his consumption

and abstention practices.

10 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

In 1925, Ernest Bell, then President of the Vegetarian Society, was interviewed for the

VM&HR, as he approached his 50th year of being a vegetarian (since December 1874). He

believed ‘The humane phase of the movement is much the most important.’102 He argued

‘Reform based on selfish interest is apt to live only as long as the advantage is present. The

humane aspect is based on unselfishness.’103 Like many others,104 Bell makes a distinction

between vegetarianism for health and purity and its compassionate form. This distinction

was echoed in November 1931 by Gandhi at a speech delivered to the Vegetarian Society

on the importance of a moral basis to vegetarianism. By his own experience, Gandhi

argued, it was people who abstained from meat purely for health reasons that were not

committed morally. Gandhi says ‘The only basis for having a vegetarian society and

proclaiming a vegetarian principle is, and must be, a moral one.’105 Salt, who was present

at this meeting, was an inspirational figure in Gandhi’s change from being a vegetarian by

birth in India to an ethical vegetarian by conviction in the UK. Gandhi had read Salt’s 1886

pamphlet, ‘A Plea for Vegetarianism’ and so again the concept of ‘ethical vegetarianism’

(consumption) is shown to be an important element to debates.

Salt saw being a vegetarian as a highly principled ethic that encompassed a whole raft

of compassionate considerations. He saw his own conduct as carrying responsibility that

impacted on other beings’ choices in life; that more people could be fed on a vegetable

diet, and ‘If it can be shown that men can live equally well without flesh food . . . it must

surely seem unjustifiable, on the score of humanity, to breed and kill animals for merely

culinary purposes’.106 We might argue that the moral concerns of Salt would not be out of

place in the twenty-first century debate107 on ethical consumption. As well as writing on

the ‘ethical diet’, he covered vivisection, environmentalism, blood sports, slavery and

more. What is important here, as shown in earlier paragraphs is that ‘purchase choices’ are

accompanied by a strong concern for the ‘other’ and that this morality is important to those

concerned.

Concern among ethical vegetarians can, as today, be shown to affect consumption

choices beyond the immediate dietary matters. For example, Lewis Gompertz108 was, like

the American John Woolman, appalled by the ill treatment of horses. Peter Singer109 tells

us that ‘Consistent with his beliefs, Gompetz ate neither meat nor other animal products,

and refused even to ride in a horse-drawn carriage – and in his day, the only other way to

get around London was on foot.’ From the advantage of a later generation to Woolman,

Gompertz put effort into improving the early hobby horse design that evolved into one of

today’s ‘ethical’ forms of travel, the bicycle. The concerns about the relationship between

humans and horses expressed by Woolman and Gompetz were not identical. Whilst

Gompertz believed categorically that ‘we should never admit of propriety of the will or

volition of one animal being the agent of another’,110 Woolman’s concern rested on the

treatment or mis-treatment of ‘fellow creatures’. Both men, however, aligned their

principles with consumption practices to similar effect.

Finally, in this section we examine the original anthropological study to which Berlan

refers above. In 1950, Ian Hogbin111 published his report focusing primarily on the

Busama people of New Guinea as they move towards modernity. In this period following

the Second World War, however, traditional trading practices are still apparent. Hogbin112

reports the peoples of this area trading through reciprocal gifting rather than market

trading. Of one instance he says:

The pot makers depend on the Busama-Kala113 group for their bowls, mats, bags, purses, andbaskets but never receive any of these items on their journeys north: always and inevitablythere is a delay until their kinsmen come southwards. The Busama-Kala charge nothing fortheir trouble or for transport and actually give away the bowls for less than cost. They are

Business History 11

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

happy to present a bowl for which they have paid 10s in exchange for a pot worth only 8s.;further, they refrain from making derogatory remarks about the man afterwards, somethingthey would do if a fellow villager had been involved. ‘We’re sorry for the potters’, one of myfriends114 remarked. ‘They live in such hungry country. Besides, we want pots for useourselves and to exchange for mats and other things.’

There seem to be strong protocols on how gift exchanges might occur and by whom

they might be initiated. We infer from Hogbin’s report, however, that in these traditional

societies where trading depended on honourable exchanges of gifts the ‘consumers’ of

pots have latitude to express compassion for others. The absence of ‘derogatory remarks’

suggests a willingness and contentment in their compassion. We concur, therefore, with

Berlan’s115 argument that this instance indicates an ethic of consumption in a traditional

society. We would argue that there would be some value in anthropologists revisiting and

exploring similar phenomena.

In the suffrage movement we find evidence of both affluent and working-class

compassion in consumption among women activists. Among the ethical consumers

reviewed were international figures, Woolman and Ghandi and largely uncelebrated

people in Chew and a medical army officer. Whilst we have focused on the UK as our

location, Woolman instances America and we draw on Gandhi and ethical consumption

practices among the Busana of New Guinea as suggestive of a wider geographical and

temporal prevalence. Concern affects consumption practices as diverse as food, different

aspects of transport and clothing. We find a diversity of practices from abstinence and

boycott to positive purchase116: vegetable foods, un-dyed clothing, slave-free sugar,

personal adornment and tableware. The concern expressed by those we cite is with diverse

‘others’, is sometimes individual but other times clearly collective. We have also shown

instances where other academics present this evidence as a history of consumption ethics.

Conceptualising consumption ethics through a long history

In conclusion we argue that acknowledging long histories can challenge prevalent

contemporary views. We critically discuss the characterisation of consumers as individual

‘economic man’, the relationship between consumption, citizenship and politics, women

as radical consumers and present our understanding of recurrent activism.

Histories have been excavated to demonstrate political consumption in America117 and

Britain.118 In both cases these are surprisingly recent publications and welcomed as timely

additions to the academic field. We are, however, not aware of a similar history of

consumption ethics. Towards this, and unlike other consumption histories, we distinguish

between political consumption as encompassing self- and other-interested motives and

ethical consumption where concern is primarily for others, distanced by geography, class,

species or generality.

Our first consideration in this debate is that if the intervention of (individual) ethics in

consumption is new, or mythical as Devinney et al. suggest, then the influential

economists’ model of consumer as ‘economic man’119 can go largely unchallenged.

Conversely, if (some/most) consumers have long been interested in the ‘social and anti-

social component’ of the products they are offered, then we might become concerned that

the economistic view that ‘says nothing about what desires [consumers] pursue, about

where their needs come from, about whether they are good or bad’120 is too reductive for

our understanding of consumer cultures. The debate between those who see decades of

social concern121 and those who see centuries122 is, therefore, significant in terms of our

conceptualisation of ‘the consumer’.

12 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

A second consequence of acknowledging a history for consumption ethics is in our

understanding of citizenship in consumer culture. The recent critical literature presents

political activism and ethical consumption as separate spheres. The former is seen as a

collective endeavour, the latter, pejoratively, as an individualised market act. Thus,

Micheletti notes that many social scientists have dismissed consumer activism

alternatively ‘as a right-wing, left-wing or inconsequential political activity’.123 We

might, nevertheless, question any simple disaggregation of political and consumer

spheres. Those campaigning for the abolition of slavery might be expected to have avoided

the products of slavery where possible, contemporary promoters of fair trade to support the

Fair-Trade products, and women campaigning against sweatshop labour to give more than

some thought to their own apparel. Where that is not the case, strong concern is expressed.

For example, Alan Haynes124 tells us:

In 1911 [ . . . ] Queen Mary gave tactful instructions to exclude plumed millinery from herwardrobe [ . . . ] Yet in 1920, as the two sides were ranged against each other again inParliament, she wore an ‘osprey’ at a royal garden party. This bizarre lapse was particularlystriking since she and King George were patrons of the RSPCA.

In this case the politics concerned the dispute between hunters and traders supplying

exotic bird plumage to the fashion industry and the emerging UK conservation lobby, here

represented by the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Mary’s

‘private’, consumer, choice of apparel seems contrary given her political support for the

abolitionists. Haynes finds this disaggregation between politics and consumption

‘bizarre’. We noted similar, consternation at an apparent disjuncture between politics and

personal consumption in G. B. Shaw’s description of an anti-vivisection rally in

London.125 Contrary to much in the literature we argue, therefore, that with this long

history we should not be surprised that consumption practices and political activity,

consumerism and citizenship, frequently do coexist as well as clash.

Our third interest concerns our view of women as consumers. If, as Midgley and

Hochschild argue, women have played a primary role in the radical activism of

consumption ethics and this history is ‘lost’ or hidden from the literature on consumption

ethics, then this serves to minimise women’s (consumer) politics.126 To the extent that

‘ethical consumption’ and political activism in the present are disaggregated and the latter

privileged over the former, this again might be seen as disadvantaging the status of

women’s activism. Such omission is important as the role of women both as key

consumers for the household and as concerned consumers outlined by Midgley, continues

to be reported in more recent accounts of ethical consumption.127 Indeed, Katherine Pettus

believes it is through such roles of responsibility that women are most likely to observe the

negative effects of, for example, environmental pollutants on the well-being of their

family and wider communities.128 While presenting problems, the marketplace can offer

opportunities for intentional choices, for example, in local organic products, fairly traded

products and second-hand items.129

Despite this, however, we continue to find ahistorical and reductive accounts of

women as consumers. Even from a proto-feminist perspective the late nineteenth century

American social reformer, Charlotte Perkins Gilman argues women will be consumed by

consumption: ‘To consume food, to consume clothes, to consume houses and furniture and

decorations and ornaments and amusements, to take and take and take forever . . . this is

the enforced condition of the mothers of the race.’130 Prominent reviews of women’s

political activism as consumers should help guard against such demeaning gross over-

simplifications.

Business History 13

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

Our final concern is to open an alternative view, placing ‘ethical consumption’ as a

development of similar, recurrent upwellings of semi-organised, and well organised,

consumer activism going back deep into our histories. Both Glickman131 and Hilton132 see

consumer political activism in relation to corporate power; that consumer actions become

more prominent as that power grows, is for them not surprising. As Glickman133 argues

more generally ‘the history of consumer activism suggests another way of understanding

the relationship between commerce and citizenship’. This version means that whilst

consumer activism on political (and ethical) issues ‘has waxed and waned but never

disappeared’,134 it is inherent in the social human experience. For our subject, this view

raises the question of the relationship between CSR, production ethics, and CNSR,

consumption ethics, through history.

Conclusion

The aim of this article is, therefore, to draft a case in probability and an indicative outline

for constructing a history of consumption ethics. Such a case must take account of the

cautions presented about assuming ethical consumption from practices such as the boycott

of slave produced sugar. In developing an outline, however, we have looked in some of the

most obvious places for evidence: documented events such as anti-slavery; renowned

individuals such as Woolman; potentially compassionate practices such as vegetable diets,

etc. We believe similarities and differences between contemporary understandings of

consumption ethics and its historical manifestations are instructive. Our argument is that

whilst scholars working with the concept of a recent rise in ‘ethical consumption’

construct a new market challenge we see a recurrent one.

We propose that consumption ethics lacks prominence or even disappears from view in

marketing and business for two interlinked reasons. In economics and marketing ‘the

consumer’ is reduced to the rational maximiser, or by implication Oliver Williamson’s135

boundedly rational opportunist, because this facilitates behavioural prediction and the

formation of laws. Conversely, ethics in consumption has been shown to be highly

complex and, therefore, unpredictable.136 Insofar as commercial retailing has adopted

products for ‘ethical consumers’, unlike the political messages found in ‘alternative’

outlets,137 it has preferred products packaged as ‘shopping for a better world’ where, as

William Low and Eileen Davenport138 argue, the consumer is encouraged to passively

trust. Additionally as we note earlier, Micheletti139 observes ‘ethical consumption’ as

lacking in political support.

Rather, we seek to highlight our reconstructed history as business and consumers being

interconnected not only through market exchanges but also evaluations of justice in

production. Whilst these evaluations might not always be apparent, at times of corporate

deterioration, as Albert Hirschman140 argued, consumers are left with two courses of

action: exit and voice. In our view this proposition receives too little consideration in

business, marketing and academia.

Whilst some authors see the ‘ethical consumer’ as mythical141 for others a morality in

consumption is nearly ubiquitous.142 We are well aware of this debate and respect the

views that are presented. We would argue, however, that there is some value in speaking of

certain consumption practices as born of moral concern for the ‘other’, in the wide sense

discussed here, and that those practices are distinct from Daniel Miller’s143 findings of ‘the

way people’s acquisition of objects helped one understand love and care in families’. We

would further argue that whilst such consumers might be rare, they are worth documenting

in their own right.

14 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

We have outlined evidence to reveal ethics in consumption across differing social and

political events and over a not insignificant time period. While providing illuminating,

albeit putative, insights into a history of consumption ethics, we regard the value in our

research as not merely documenting the past, but in acuminating our vision of present

business research and future considerations. In excavating a history for consumption ethics

we are concerned to establish it, as Gabriel and Lang would depict, as one of the

contenders in the representation of consumers.144 Further, we see it as a modest

contribution to the critique of orthodox economic understanding, a critique for example,

found in Slater’s and Miller’s writing.145

As we note in our article, ethical consumption ‘has waxed and waned’. Future research

could, therefore, consider a richer analysis of the challenges to consistency and continuity

of a consumption ethic over time and the interpretative lenses through which this might be

framed. Our article also suggests a distinction between ‘visibility’ and ‘performability’ of

consumption. Woolman we might argue was ‘visible’ in his undyed clothes; a singularity

with which he was uncomfortable. Radical women were, we might imagine, proud of their

anti-slavery brooches on each ‘performance’. The former is the performance of ‘ethical

consumption’ whereas the latter is the political performance of support for

‘ethical consumption’ through the market. Although frugality has long accompanied

‘ethical consumption’ the recent concern with the unsustainability of consumer culture has

drawn criticism to any consumption, ethical or otherwise, perceived as unnecessary,

highlighting shifts in the focus and nature of practices of ethical consumption across time.

We, thus, invite further research to underpin historicised business understandings in

this field. We suggest that future research might explore further how consumption ethics

challenges orthodoxy, is manifested across acts of consumption and non-consumption, its

upwelling into activism, what stays constant and what changes.

Acknowledgements

We would like to acknowledge the contribution of May Avery during long conversations about ourarticle. May had worked for many years in the library at Friends House, London and accumulatedconsiderable knowledge of early Quakers. Sadly she died before she saw the completion of our article.

Notes

1. For varying views on the value of consumption ethics Littler (2008), Micheletti (2003) andSandlin and McLaren (2010).

2. Nyland and McLeod (2007) demonstrate that whilst Taylorism mostly appears as aconservative time management of workers, its origins in scientific management should beseen as radical.

3. Hilton (2003); Glickman (2009).4. A. Smith (2006[1759], 3).5. Nyland and McLeod (2007, 730).6. Ibid., 730.7. Devinney, Auger, and Eckhardt (2010).8. Coff (2010, xi).9. Schlegelmilch (1994, 57–58).10. Devinney, Auger, and Eckhardt (2010, 1).11. Ibid., 9.12. See also Nyland and McLeod (2007) for a similar ‘hidden history’.13. Hilton (2003, 314).14. Ibid.15. Gabriel and Lang (1995, 40).16. Berlan (2012).

Business History 15

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

17. Ibid., 44–45.18. Harrison, Newholm, and Shaw (2005, 2).19. Barnett et al.’s definition is broad: ethical consumption is ‘any practice of consumption in

which explicitly registering commitment to distant or absent others is an important dimensionof the meaning of activity of the actors involved’ (Barnett et al. 2005, 29).

20. Kant (1993, 19).21. See Micheletti (2003, 40–41).22. Friedman (1999).23. Chessel (2006); Glickman (2009); Lewis and Potter (2010).24. See Bamfield (1998).25. See for example Newholm (2012).26. Although the subject of debate, Pythagoras was thought to be vegetarian (Walters and

Portmess 1999) and his name was adopted to indicate the diet before ‘vegetarianism’ wascoined. Many early notables, Pythagoras included, left no records unlike those we review, likeHenry Salt, whose works are extensive.

27. See Trentman, Dhan, Carrier for examples.28. Hochschild (2006) and Mainieri et al. (1997, 40).29. Woolman’s biographer.30. See Monroe Friedman (1999).31. Gabriel and Lang (1995, 17).32. Hochschild (2006, 193).33. Carrier (2012, 11).34. Trentmann (2012, 546).35. Micheletti (2008, 122).36. Midgley (2007).37. See Rude’s (1981) The Crowd in History but also Thompson (1971) on ‘moral economy’.38. Schwartz (2010).39. Ibid., 10 (emphasis in original).40. Schwartz (2010); Wenz (2005).41. Midgley (2007).42. Ibid.43. Amelia Opie 1826 (Midgley 2007, 54).44. Midgley (2007, 48).45. Ibid., 49.46. Ibid., 49.47. Ibid., 49.48. Ibid., 49.49. Midgley on the extent of leafleting.50. See Dahn’s (2009) reference note 2 where a conference paper by Hugh Torrens sees the rural

West Midlands as the intellectual hinterland of the urban Lunar Society of Birmingham(learned society of prominent figures including industrialists, philosophers and intellectuals).

51. See Dahn’s (2009) reference note 28 to the ‘little people were the first to wish’ abstentionfrom sugar.

52. Hochschild (2006, 193; 195).53. Dahn (2009).54. Ibid., n.p.55. Ibid., n.p.56. Sussman (1994).57. Dahn (2009, n.p.) (emphasis added).58. Hochschild (2006, 194).59. Nicholls and Opal (2005, 161) suggest that whereas the ‘first phase’ of marketing Fair Trade

coffee to supportive consumers focused on solidarity, the ‘second phase’ to the lifestyle ofsympathetic consumers refocused on product quality.

60. Marinetto (1999) sets out the changing business environment in the 1950s in the UK fromfamily businesses to ‘oligopolistic commercial organisations’ in section 3. Bamfield (1998)briefly outlines the changing consumer market in the late nineteenth century in sections 2 and3. Doherty, Davies, and Tranchell (2013) present the present issues concerningmainstreaming Fair-Trade to corporations.

16 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

61. Hochschild (2006, 198).62. Refer back to Carrier’s (2012) caution concerning motives.63. Glickman (2009) cites Woolman but more importantly Hartman (2012) takes him as one of

her exemplars.64. Woolman (1882).65. Ibid., 231.66. Carrier (2012); Midgley (2007).67. Ibid., 232.68. Ibid., 274–275.69. Ibid., 269.70. Woolman (1882, 182).71. Gaining full use from products of which one has use, frugality, is a current concern. See, for

example, Cooper (2010) and Wenz (2005).72. Woolman (1882, 182).73. Quakers use the term ‘Friends’ to denote other members of the Society of Friends (Quakers).74. Collins (2012).75. Wenz (2005) presents the case through virtue theory.76. Isenhour (2012, 173) discusses an empirical case from Sewden.77. Carrier (2012).78. Woolman (1882, 103).79. Ibid., 103.80. Peter Wenz (2005, 270) sees frugality as ‘the ability to enjoy what you have’ unencumbered

by the pursuit of wealth and material lifestyles.81. Carrier (2012, 11).82. Woolman’s journal records his tailoring and retail businesses as being sufficiently successful

in 1756 that he sees fit to carefully divest his retail business having ‘grew[n] uneasy onaccount of my business growing too cumbersome’. (Woolman 1882).

83. Carrier (2012).84. Alan Haynes (1983), Leah Leneman (1997) and Clare Midgley (2007) were invaluable.85. Leneman (1997).86. The Food Reform Movement began in Germany in 1820/30s. ‘Many of the reformers

combined health and ethical arguments focusing on the purifying effects both spiritual andphysical of a vegetarian diet.’ (Kheel 2004, 1276). However, our reading of this sourcesuggests a privileging of the well-being of the self rather than the ‘other’.

87. Leneman (1997).88. Ibid., 275.89. Leneman (1997, 276) presents this evidence but we returned to the original, Vegetarian

Messenger and Health Review v12. 1915 p13, to clarify whose voice was being quoted.90. See Walters and Portmess (1999) for a discussion of this distinction through history.91. Leneman (1997, 276).92. Leneman (1997, 275–276). In the same paper Leneman presents additional evidence of

working class concern.93. Ibid., 277.94. A prominent Irish playwright, critic, political activist of the late nineteenth and early

twentieth century.95. Leneman (1997, 277).96. A prominent English writer and campaigner for social reform; a noted ethical vegetarian, anti-

vivisectionist, socialist, and pacifist of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century.97. Haynes (1983).98. A campaign slogan of the time, see Haynes (1983).99. Haynes (1983).100. Ibid.101. Spencer (2000, 277).102. Vegetarian Messenger and Health Review v22 no.1. 1925.103. Ibid.104. See Walters and Portmess (1999).105. The moral Basis of Vegetarianism. A speech delivered by Mahatma Gandhi at a social

meeting organized by the London Vegetarian Society, on November 20th, 1931.

Business History 17

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

106. Page 10 in Henry Salt ‘A Plea for Vegetarianism and Other Essays’ Manchester: TheVegetarian Society, 1886.

107. See for example Peter Singer.108. Gompertz (1784–1861) was a campaigner and co-founder of the world’s first Society for the

Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.109. Gompertz (1992, 12).110. Ibid., 11.111. Hogbin (1951).112. Ibid., 91–92.113. Busama-Kala refers to residents of a group of close coastal villages bounded by Busama to the

north and Kala to the south.114. Hogbin seems to refer to some of his informants as ‘friends’.115. Berlan (2012).116. See usage in Harrison, Newholm, and Shaw (2005).117. Glickman (2009).118. Hilton (2003).119. For a critical discussion of ‘economic man’ see Slater (1997).120. Slater (1997, 49).121. Devinney, Auger, and Eckhardt (2010); Schlegelmilch (1994).122. Berlan (2012); Gabriel and Lang (1995); Lang and Gabriel (2005).123. See discussion in Micheletti (2003).124. Haynes (1983, 30).125. See section ‘A wide foundation for consumption ethics’.126. The prominence and predominance of women’s political and ethical consumption is often

shown in surveys (Hudson, Hudson, and Edgerton 2013; Stolle, Hooghe, and Micheletti 2005).127. Loureiro and Lotade (2005); Mainieri et al. (1997); Roberts (1996).128. Pettus (1997).129. Dobscha and Ozanne (2001).130. cited in Donohue (2003, 33).131. Glickman (2009).132. Hilton (2003).133. Glickman (2009, 301).134. Glickman (2009, 305).135. Williamson (1985).136. Newholm (2005).137. Fridell (2009).138. Low and Davenport (2005).139. Micheletti (2003).140. Hirschman (1970).141. Devinney, Auger, and Eckhardt (2010).142. Miller (2001).143. Miller (2008).144. See Gabriel and Lang (2005) for this pluralist view.145. Slater (1997), Miller (1995).

Notes on contributors

Terry Newholm has published on consumption ethics since the 1990s in journals, such as Psychology& Marketing and the European Journal of Marketing, and with Deirdre Shaw has co-edited TheEthical Consumer published by Sage.

Sandy Newholm is a retired Academic Research Librarian who focused on women’s history and art,and she primarily worked at Bedford University library and the Royal Institute of British Architectsinformation services.

Deirdre Shaw is a Professor of Marketing and Consumer Research at Adam Smith Business School,University of Glasgow. Deirdre has taught, researched and published in the area of consumptionethics in journals including Psychology &Marketing, European Journal of Marketing and Journal ofMarketing Management and with Terry Newholm has co-edited the book The Ethical Consumer.

18 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

References

Bamfield, Joshua. “Consumer-owned Community Flour and Bread Societies in the Eighteenth andEarly Nineteenth Centuries.” Business History 40, no. 4 (1998): 16–36.

Barnett, Clive, Paul Cloke, Nick Clarke, and Alice Malpass. “Consuming Ethics: Articulating theSubjects and Spaces of Ethical Consumption.” Antipode 37, no. 1 (2005): 23–45.

Berlan, Amanda. “Good Chocolate? An Examination of Ethical Consumption in Cocoa.” In EthicalConsumption: Social Value and Economic Practice, edited by James Carrier and PeterLuetchford. New York: Berghahn Books, 2012.

Carrier, James. “Introduction.” In Ethical Consumption: Social Value and Economic Practice, editedby James Carrier and Peter Luetchford, 1–36. New York: Berghahn Books, 2012.

Chessel, Marie-Emmanuelle. “Women and the Ethics of Consumption in France at the Turn of theTwentieth Century.” In The Making of the Consumer: Knowledge, Power and Identity in theModern World, edited by Frank Trentmann, 81–98. Oxford: Berg, 1998.

Coff, Christian. The Taste for Ethics: An Ethic of Food Consumption. Dordrecht: Springer, 2010.Collins, Peter. “Ethical Consumption as Religeous Testimony: The Quaker Case.” In Ethical

Consumption: Social Value and Economic Practice, edited by James Carrier and PeterLuetchford, 181–197. New York: Berghahn Books, 2012.

Cooper, Tim. Longer Lasting Products. Farnham: Gower, 2010.Dahn, Joanna. “Ceramics in the West Midlands in the Late Eighteenth Centuary: Production and

Consumption Through the Eyes of Katharine Plymley.” Interpreting Ceramics, no. 11 (2009).http://www.interpretingceramics.com/issue011/articles/01.htm.

Devinney, Timothy M., Pat Auger, and Giana M. Eckhardt. The Myth of the Ethical Consumer.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.

Dobscha, Susan, and Julie L. Ozanne. “An Ecofeminist Analysis of Environmentally SensitiveWomen Using Qualitative Methodology: The Emancipatory Potential of an Ecological Life.”Journal of Public Policy & Marketing 20, no. 2 (2001): 201–214.

Doherty, Bob, Iain A. Davies, and Sophi Tranchell. “Where Now for Fair Trade?” Business History55, no. 2 (2013): 161–189.

Donohue, Kathleen G. Freedom from Want: American Liberalism and the Idea of the Consumer.Baltimore: John Hopkins Press, 2003.

Fridell, Gavin. “The Co-Operative and the Corporation: Competing Visions of the Future of FairTrade.” Journal of Business Ethics 86, no. S1 (2009): 81–95.

Friedman, Monroe. Consumer Boycotts: Effecting Change Through the Marketplace and the Media.New York: Routledge, 1999.

Gabriel, Yiannis, and Tim Lang. The Unmanageable Consumer: Contemporary Consumption and itsFragmentations. London: Sage, 1995.

Glickman, Lawrence B. Buying Power: A History of Consumer Activism in America. Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 2009.

Gompertz, Lewis. Moral Inquiries on the Situation of Man and of Brutes. Fontwell: Centaur Press,1992.

Harrison, Rob, Terry Newholm, and Deirdre Shaw. The Ethical Consumer. London: Sage, 2005.Hartman, Laura M. The Christian Consumer: Living Faithfully in a Fragile World. Oxford: Oxford

University Press, 2012.Haynes, Alan. “Murderous Millinary: The Struggle for the Plumage Act, 1921.” History Today 33,

no. 7 (1983): 26–30.Hilton, Matthew. Consumerism in Twentieth Century Britain. Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press, 2003.Hirschman, Albert O. Exit, Voice, and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organizations, and

States. Cambridge Mass. Harvard University Press, 1970.Hochschild, Adam. Bury the Chains: Prophets and Rebels in the Fight to Free an Empire’s Slaves.

Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998.Hogbin, H. Ian. Transformation Scene: The Changing Culture of a New Guinea Village. London:

Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1951.Hudson, Mark, Ian Hudson, and Jason D. Edgerton. “Political Consumerism in Context: An

Experiment on Status and Information in Ethical Consumption Decisions.” American Journal ofEconomics and Sociology 72, no. 4 (2013): 1009–1037.

Business History 19

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

Isenhour, Cindy. “On the Challenges of Signalling Ethics Without Stuff: Tales of ConspicuousGreen Anti-Consumption.” In Ethical Consumption: Social Value and Economic Practice,edited by James Carrier and Peter Luetchford, 164–180. New York: Berghahn Books, 2012.

Kant, Immanuel.Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals: On the Supposed Right to Lie Because ofPhilanthropic Concerns. Translated by James, W. Ellington, 3rd ed. Indianapolis: HackettPublishing, 1993.

Kheel, Marti. “Vegetarianism.” In The Encyclopedia of World Environmental Hostory, edited byShepard Krech, III, John Robert MacNeill, and Carolyn Merchant, Vol.3, 1273–1278. NewYork: Routledge, 2004.

Lang, Tim, and Yiannis Gabriel. “Brief History of Consumer Activism.” In The Ethical Consumer,edited by Rob Harrison, Terry Newholm, and Deirdre Shaw, 39–53. London: Sage, 2005.

Leneman, Leah. “The Awakened Instinct: Vegetarianism and the Women’s Suffrage Movement inBritain.” Women’s History Review 6, no. 2 (1997): 271–287.

Lewis, Tania, and Emily Potter. Ethical Consumption: A Critical Introduction. London: Routledge,2010.

Littler, Jo. Radical Consumption: Shopping for Change in Contemporary Culture. Maidenhead:Mcgraw Hill/OU Press, 2008.

Loureiro, Maria L., and Justus Lotade. “Do Fair Trade and Eco-labels in Coffee Wake Up theConsumer Conscience?” Ecological Economics 53, no. 1 (2005): 129–138.

Low, William, and Eileen Davenport. “Has the Medium (Roast) Become the Message?: The Ethicsof Marketing Fair Trade in the Mainstream.” International Marketing Research 22, no. 5 (2005):494–511.

Mainieri, Tina, Elaine G. Barnett, Trisha R. Valdero, John B. Unipan, and Stuart Oskamp. “GreenBuying: The Influence of Environmental Concern on Consumer Behavior.” The Journal ofSocial Psychology 137, no. 2 (1997): 189–204.

Marinetto, M. “The Historical Development of Business Philanthropy: Social Responsibility in theNew Corporate Economy.” Business History 41, no. 4 (1999): 1–20.

Micheletti, Michele. Political Virtue and Shopping: Individuals, Consumerism and CollectiveAction. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003.

Micheletti Michele “The Moral Force of Consumption and Capitalism: Anti-slavery and Anti-sweatshop.” In Citizenship and Consumption, edited by Kate Soper, and Frank Trentmann,121–136. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008.

Midgley, Clare. Feminism and Empire: Women Activists in Imperial Britain 1790–1865. Abingdon:Routledge, 2007.

Miller, Daniel. Acknowledging Consumption: A Review of New Studies. London: Routledge, 1995.Miller, Daniel. The Comfort of Things. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2008.Miller, Daniel “The Poverty of Morality.” Journal of Consumer Culture 1, no. 2 (2001): 225–243.Newholm, Terry. “Case Studying Ethical Consumers.” In The Ethical Consumer, edited by Rob

Harrison, Terry Newholm, and Deirdre Shaw, 107–124. London: Sage, 2005.Newholm, Terry Understanding the Ethical Consumer: Employing a Frame of Bounded Rationality.

Saarbrucken: Lambert Academic Publishing, 2012.Nicholls, Alex, and Charlotte Opal. Fair Trade: Market-Driven Ethical Consumption. Los Angeles:

Sage, 2005.Nyland, Chris, and Amanda McLeod. “The Scientific Management of the Consumer Interest.”

Business History 49, no. 5 (2007): 717–735.Roberts, James A. “Green Consumers in the 1990s: Profile and Implications for Advertising.”

Journal of Business Research 36, no. 3 (1996): 217–231.Pettus, Katherine. “Ecofeminist Citizenship.” Hypatia 12, no. 4 (1997): 132–155.Rude, George. The Crowd in History 1730–1848. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1981.Sandlin, Jennifer A., and Peter McLaren. Critical Pedagogies of Consumption. New York:

Routledge, 2010.Schlegelmilch, B. B. “Green, Ethical and Charitable: Another Marketing Ploy or a New Marketing

Era?” In Perspectives on Marketing Management, edited by M. J. Baker, Vol. 4, 57–68.Chichester: Wiley, 1994.

Schwartz, David T. Consuming Choices: Ethics in a Global Consumer Age. Lanham: Rowman &Littlefield, 2010.

Slater, Don. Consumer Culture and Modernity. Cambridge: Polity, 1997.Smith, Adam. The Theory of Moral Sentiments. New York: Dover Publications, 2006[1759].

20 T. Newholm et al.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014

Spencer, Colin. Vegetarianism: A History. London: Grub Street, 2000.Stolle, Dietlind, Marc Hooghe, and Michele Micheletti. “Politics in the Supermarket: Political

Consumerism as a Form of Political Participation.” International Political Science Review 26,no. 3 (2005): 245–269.

Thompson, Edward. P. “The Moral Economy of the English Crowd in the Eighteenth Century.” Pastand Present 50, no. 1 (1971): 76–136.

Walters, Kerry, and Lisa Portmess. Ethical Vegetarianism: From Pythagoras to Peter Singer.Albany: State University of New York Press, 1999.

Wenz, Peter. “Synergistic Environmental Virtues: Consumerism and Human Flourishing.”In Environmental Virtue Ethics, edited by Ronald Sandler, and Philip Cafaro, 197–213.Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2005.

Williamson, Oliver E. The Economic Institutions of Capitalism. New York: The Free Press, 1985.Woolman, John. The Journal of John Woolman, edited by John G. Whittier. Glasgow: Robert Smeal,

1882.

Business History 21

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Upp

sala

uni

vers

itets

bibl

iote

k] a

t 13:

35 1

8 N

ovem

ber

2014